Obsession
by FantasticMr.Socks
Summary: A sign of a true man, when that which he lusts after the most, becomes as unattainable as his own happiness.    Light stalking and mentions of anorexia and prostitution hence the T rating.


It's an Atlantian art; a woman to knows how to walk properly in a pair of stilettos and from his position at the oblong table, he got a middle row seat to the allure of those hips swinging from left to right. She doesn't know it quite yet, how he marks her with his attention, but he's almost positive that she can feel his unconventional coloured eyes boring into her back as his orbs follow her strut, into the fine restaurant. A lock of elegantly curled russet went tucked behind her ear as she shifted her weight nervously and spoke to the host.

To anyone else in the posh dining area, the viridian eyed woman seemed to have naught a reason to be nervous; she fit in amongst the flamingos in her dolled up and inordinate strapless gown. A minx shawl gave prominence to the dark colours of floor length fabric, seemingly black until the light hit it just right and revealed a rather murky undertone of maroon. A pang of jealously flooded the stalker's senses. She was to only wear that dress for _him_, and it always did look so enticing on the floor, tangled in a heap of passion with his own dapper uniform.

Amongst the buzz of the opulent flies, he scrutinized her. Garnet eyes unblinking in an unwavering gaze of obsession and he realized how infatuated he was with that which he could not have. A sign of a true man, when that which he lusts after the most, becomes as unattainable as his own happiness. Although he knew in his heart, that happiness with her would also be unattainable, yet he pursued.

With uncharacteristic patience and meticulousness, he blocked out the incessant chatter of the sickeningly wealthy and focused on the object of his obsession. She dined with another man, a man who was not him in more aspects that physicality. A plain face made baroque by a pair of thin yet dignified square rimmed glasses, accented by coif locks of chestnut and a perpetual frown on his soft lips, yes this man was not him.

Once more the Prussian found himself consumed with jealousy as he watched the two from behind his bony, laced fingers; his nose resting on his knuckles as his piercing gaze zoned in on the "happy couple." A waiter stopped by his tabled and opened his mouth to ask if the strange yet attractive looking gentleman would like to order something any dessert for himself and his companion, and with a sudden fluid motion, the Prussian's hands disentangled themselves and rose to wave off his current annoyance. Said annoyance took the hint and the silverette found himself undisturbed by an employee for the rest of the evening.

Garnet continued to ogle the fine and plump lips of the viridian eyed beauty, his eyes tracing them as she chattered complacently with the stiff before her. Gilbert had laced his fingers back together when the host left, taking time to recall how comfortably her fingers had fit into his own and he could feel them now clench together roughly and painfully at the happy look on her face as she dined in company. For a fleeting moment, he looked back at the prostitute whom he had paid and dolled up to take out on this excursion.

She seemed to pay no mind to the disinterest and the silence of her client, focused more on the expensive food she devoured. The albino was thankful for that matter and a wry sneer formed on his lips as he mused about how she'd purge her meal later on to stay fit and thin for her other clientele.

In an instant the Hungarian danced across his psyche in her stilettos, and his attention turned back to her. She'd never need to purge for him, or attempt to stay skinny for him. Her body would be perfect no matter what. Taut yet slender, with curves that tempted his fingers to no end, she would forever remain beautiful in his eyes. Those appendages yearned for her lustrous thighs, longing to feel softness that his own skin lacked.

To himself and those close to him, his twisted fascination was unhealthy and borderline macabre, yet he could not cease his tendencies. His drug of choice, voyeurism, gripped him in a tighter embrace than any straight jacket fashion ever could and flooded his senses with a more euphoric high than any street sold narcotic poison. Time would do little to quell the addiction.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So a rather short one, I think the whole story itself without the note is only around 800 words...but I felt like it was a good place to end. You'd think with all the PruHun pairing stories I write, it'd be my favourite pairing but it's not XD. Anyway, Reviews are lovely as well as constructive criticisms, I'm always looking for new ways to improve or hell if you like my story let me know! Reviews do have a tendancy to fuel passions for writing.**


End file.
